First World Problems
by Cheez Socks
Summary: We all know how well our heroes can travel the world, vanquish evil, and maybe even win the girl. But what happens when they're stuck dealing with the frustrations of modern life? A completely silly look at the characters we know and love getting into trouble in modern-day Miami. Rated for some colorful language.


**First World Problems**

_When I first started writing, I started this story, and called it Aragorn's BBQ. That was forever ago, but the idea of the guys who travelled the world and vanquished evil struggling to do things that we do today always made me laugh. I've long since lost the floppy discs (yup- that long ago!) that had my original stories on them. So here's a re-do, with the original barbecue story as chapter one. I'd hope that I don't need to say it, but any story that has socks and sandals, a gold Prius, and dearly departed pet gerbils should be causing some major OOC-Warning flags to raise. You have been warned._

* * *

It had been a hot and miserable summer in Miami. It had seemed like such a nice city to settle down in after the quest. Sunshine, beaches, golf courses, what's not to love? Well, first off, the living arrangements weren't quite ideal. After getting married, Aragorn had bought a quaint little fixer-upper for his bride and himself. One needy kid and one even needier roommate later, and the renovation schedule had been severely pushed back. Arwen had taken their son to visit her parents, leaving Aragorn and Legolas to try and get some work done around the house.

"We should get a barbecue!" Legolas declared, glaring at the neighbors, frolicking about in their backyard, splashing in the pool and grilling up burgers and hotdogs.

"I'm sure we could just go over and visit them," Aragorn countered.

"I'll go halfsies with you," Legolas said. "And I'm sure Arwen would appreciate you cooking for once. And by _appreciate_ I mean she'll probably-"

"Don't finish that thought!" Aragorn snapped. "But... fine..."

The pair walked over to the shiny eyesore in the driveway. Legolas drove a gold-plated Prius. It had been a gift from his father, who was somewhat misguided in his generosity. He'd owned acres and acres of swampland that had, until recently, just sat unused and infested with spiders and other unfriendly wildlife. He'd been advised that the land was pretty much a write off, and would never be suitable for development. But a recent real-estate transaction that he wasn't too keen on sharing the details of had made him independently wealthy.

Along with the car, he'd also given his son some money to put a down payment on a home, since after selling his land he'd moved into a high-end "independent living villa." The only advice he'd given his son was not to buy into the new development on the swamp. Something about them making new homeowners sign waivers acknowledging the possibility of their home being swallowed up by the mushy ground and never seen again. Thranduil had waived it off, saying "it happens to just _one_ single family, the _whole_ neighborhood is freaking out!"

Instead of buying a nice, structurally-sound home, Legolas had invested in his vehicle. A body kit, spinning rims, neon lights, and of course the gold-plated exterior had all added up pretty quickly, and he had enough left over to pay approximately three more months of rent. But he still had two months and twenty-nine days to break that news to Aragorn and Arwen.

"Ugh," Aragorn sighed. "Can we turn on the air?" The car was hot as heck, sitting out in the sun.

"No," Legolas replied. "Air conditioning is a waste of gas. Gas is expensive!"

"I know, Legolas, I pay the gas bill to the house you live in, remember?"

"Different type of gas."

"Well it's all expensive!"

"Well it's my car!"

"Fine," Aragorn, reaching to lower his window.

"I just got the windows tinted! You can't roll them down for another day!"

"You realize that your car is the embodiment of douchbaggery, right?" Aragorn asked with another sigh.

"Says the hipster who rides a bicycle," Legolas snapped back. "And wears chunky socks with his Birkenstocks."

"Hey! I'm trying to look at the greater good, here! I don't want my grandkids to have to wear a gas mask just to go to school. And I happen to find that the perfect footwear combination! The socks keep me warm, but the sandals don't impede any toe movement."

"Uh-huh, except every time you need something bigger than a loaf of bread from the store, it's 'Legolas, I need a ride...' You wear raggedy old clothes, you don't wash, you have a beard, you're a damn hipster. And that's only my first guess because I live with you, so I know you're not homeless... I've even seen the piles of Starbucks cups in the trash can, Aragorn!"

"Maybe I just like looking like this? Maybe I did it _before_ the hipsters did. Ever think about that?"

"That is some hipster Inception shit right there, my friend," Legolas said, shaking his head.

They pulled into the parking lot of the House Depot, the public-domain, non-copyrighted home improvement store. Of course, it was packed on a summer's weekend. The two didn't have to look far until they came across the dozens of grills set up at the front of the store.

"Don't look now, but I think we're being followed by a vagrant," Legolas whispered.

"Okay, okay, turn down this way," Aragorn said, giving the elf a shove down the nearest aisle. "I'll be cool about it," he added before nonchalantly turning to look over his shoulder.

"Well?"

"There's a little, hairless man limping behind us... Should I give him some money?"

"No, just walk faster," Legolas urged him, turning another corner of the store. "If you give him money, it's like an admission of guilt, at least that's what my father says."

"What are you talking about?" Aragorn asked.

"The house that sunk into the swamp. The owner got out, but apparently the swamp water was a bit contaminated... they don't think he'll ever look normal again. Plus, he's always going on about his stupid gerbil that didn't make it."

"A gerbil?"

"He's trying to sue the development company over it!"

"That must have been one important gerbil..."

"It was... my precioussssss..." the hairless homeless man hissed.

"He's still behind us! Walk faster, Aragorn, walk faster!" Legolas shouted, pushing the man down the aisle and straight out the door of the store.

"Well what now?" Aragorn demanded once they were safely in the car.

"Just wait for him to leave," Legolas said, glancing nervously at the store's front entrance. "He won't be able to see us with the tinted windows."

"Look, there he is!" Aragorn pointed as the man limped out of the store. Once he'd left they re-entered the store. Just for good measure, Legolas pulled his hair in front of his face as a means of concealing his identity.

"Can I help you gentlemen with anything?" A young woman walked up to them, wearing the bright smile of someone who didn't know what kind of wackos she'd just walked up to.

"Yeah," Legolas said, his head bent to keep his face hidden behind his hair. "I _think_ this is the grill that our neighbors have." He pointed to one of the floor models. "So I'd like whatever the next best one is."

"Uh... okay... do you want to stick with gas or do charcoal?"

"We want charcoal!" Aragorn interrupted. "That's the way all grills were when I was younger."

"Damn hipster..." Legolas muttered. "Whatever, you can give them a guilt trip about the gas some time."

"Would you like some help to load this into your truck?" The sales associate smiled at them brightly.

"Oh... um... I think we're going to need to buy some rope."

* * *

An hour later, the very large box had been successfully lashed to the top of the Prius, they'd made the trek home (very slowly,) and the duo were pulling into the driveway. Arming himself with a kitchen knife, Aragorn started cutting the ropes tying the box down. They hauled it into the backyard and dumped the contents on the ground.

"This is a nightmare!" Legolas exclaimed, leafing through the extensive instruction manual.

"You're an elf, you must be good at puzzles and stuff, right?" Aragorn asked with a sigh. He picked up a small plastic bag with a couple dozen small screws in it. Of course, they weren't all the same size.

"The damn Noldor were good at making crap, but look where it got them!" Legolas huffed. "I don't _joke_ about growing up in a dirty house- my father's house was made of dirt. We don't mess around with metal."

"I can't even..." Aragorn trailed off, trying to make two of the pieces snap together.

"Okay white girl, calm down," Legolas said, taking the two pieces from him, turning them over, but failing to make them fit that way either. "What language is this in? Is there another one in a language we actually speak?" He glared at the instruction manual before throwing it over his shoulder.

"Well let's think, don't we know anyone who could do this? You said the Noldor were good at this? I happen to know someone who is part Noldo..."

_Hi Honey,_

_I just want you to know I love you very much. Very, very much. In fact, I'm going to make a lovely dinner for you tonight. Legolas and I bought a barbecue! We just need you to put the grill together for us. We took all of the pieces out of the box for you, though. They're all on the ground in the backyard somewhere._

_K thanks,_

_Aragorn._

With Legolas sleeping on their couch, Aragorn found himself exceptionally grateful for the Prius' heated seats that night.

* * *

_Join our heroes next time as they brave the depths of Costco!_


End file.
